Supernatural One-Shots
by SirenGabbieSR
Summary: Exceptionally long one shots I wrote for Supernatural, lots of Destiel and Sabriel fluff, as well as occasional SuperWhoLock crossovers. Rated T for swearing (It just seemed wrong not to Genre this supernatural...) (I'll be damned if Crowley isn't in a majority of these. Also if Adam isn't in at least one.)


Sam waited, for what seemed like hours, for the king of Hell to appear in the bunker. He still didn't know about Dean; he still thought his brother was dead. As soon as Crowley appeared, with a slight smell of sulfur, Sam jumped on him. Demanding that he bring Dean back or "so help me God, I will kill you where you stand." Crowley just stood there, staring at the younger Winchester with a slight smirk on his face. Sam was fuming, his brother lay there dead, and this asshole didn't give a _damn. _

"Why are you smiling Crowley? Do you remember how much Dean did for you? How much he trusted you?!" Crowley rolled his eyes and pointed to the Devil's trap spray-painted on the floor. He cleared his throat, stubbornly refusing to tell Sam what he most desperately wanted to know. Shaking his head, Sam grabbed his knife and made a break in the circle.

"Follow me, Moose." The demon walked out of the room, and Sam followed, reluctantly, but still wondering what Crowley wanted him to follow for. In silence they walked to the room Dean had claimed as his own. Sam held back a slight sob as he saw his brother's still body laying on the bed. Crowley sat down in the chair that Dean had put in the corner, and crossed his legs, reclining ever so slightly. He looked to Sam, and Sam looked between the demon and his brother. Dean's face was still slightly grey, his hands crossed over his chest, that damned First Blade in his grasp.

Sam put his hand over his face, closing his eyes hard, still praying that when he opened them Dean would be sitting up, his eyes open and bright, questioning why Sam was in his room. He put his hand down and slowly opened his eyes, sighing, but his breath catching when he saw Dean sitting up in the bed.

"Dean," Sam said quietly. He had no words. Once again, his brother was back from the dead, but this time, there was something different about him.

"Sammy," Dean said, his gruff voice soft, a tone Sam hadn't heard in a while. Since before Gadreel. Sam wanted desperately to tell Dean he was sorry, how he did care about him. How Dean was right: he would do anything to save his older brother. But Dean wouldn't look at him. His eyes were down, looking at his bloodstained shirt, or perhaps his untied shoes.

"Oh, Dean, don't you have something you want to show Sammy here? Something that might be a bit controversial? Oh but don't worry Sam, you'll get used to it soon." Sam looked questioningly at Crowley, and then back at his brother. Dean still refused to look at Sam, and Sam looked back to Crowley.

"All right, let me spoil the surprise. Attention Sam Winchester, your new and improved brother. Dean, show him what you can make your eyes do." Sam looked at his brother, clenching his teeth together, hoping that "what you can make your eyes do" meant make them flash blue like Cas.

Dean sighed, stood up, and looked up at his brother for a brief moment. He then looked down, and sighed.

"Don't hate me Sammy." The older Winchester looked back up at his brother, his eyes beetle-black. Sam gasped in surprise.

"You're a-," was all Sam could manage.

"Demon. Yeah," Dean blinked and his eyes went back to normal, but he immediately averted his gaze from Sam.

"Well, this has been an interesting family reunion," Crowley said, pointing out the obvious. "I guess I'll be taking my leave now." He stood up and raised his hand near his face, ready to snap his fingers to return to Hell, but paused. "Oh, and Dean, I'm your King now. You'd do well to remember that my word is law." With that said, he looked to Sam, nodded, and snapped his fingers. He was gone in an instant, the only reminder of his presence was the smell of sulfur. Or was that Dean?

"So, uh, do you know what happened?" Sam asked, breaking the silence that hung over the room. Dean shook his head, still refusing to look at Sam.

"Crowley said it was the Mark. That it didn't want to let go. And how before I kept wanting to kill because the Mark was meant for a demon and humans can't control its full power, but now I'm a demon… Sam, I am what we hunt. People we know, other hunters, are going to try and KILL ME. Sammy, I'm sorry… I should have listened when Cain said there would be side effects. I-," Dean was cut off by Sam pulling him in, hugging him tightly.

"Don't worry Dean. We'll make the best of this. You may be a demon, but you're still Dean Winchester. You may be a demon, but you're still my brother." Sam's voice threatened to crack. He knew how much Dean would be targeted by old friends. A demon with the Mark of Cain. A threat to every hunter, every angel, every monster. But he was still Dean. Sam and Dean had saved the world countless times, they had been through worse than this. Hell, Sam had once been the vessel for Lucifer. They would make it through this.

Suddenly there was a loud _**BANG**_on the roof of the bunker. Sam and Dean looked up instantly, Dean pulling out the First Blade. Sam pulled out his own knife and the brothers made their way to the entrance of their "home". The door swung open just as Sam was reaching for the doorknob, and a man with dark hair, light eyes, and a beige trenchcoat stood there, huddled over, leaning on the wall of the bunker. Sam and Dean dropped their weapons to help their friend into the bunker.

"Cas, what's wrong?" Dean asked, as they set the angel down on the bed in the extra room that once was Kevin's. The angel's hair was disheveled, his face looked like it was cracking, his nose bleeding.

"My…" Castiel's voice was weak, "my grace… it's burning out… You need… to find," Cas coughed, and a small amount of blood came up. "Find Chuck…" Dean looked to his brother, who was using a wet cloth to wipe the blood off of Cas's face.

"Chuck. You mean like the writer-prophet Chuck? The one who wrote our lives as a fiction novel? That Chuck?" Dean asked the angel, and Cas nodded. Then, Cas's eyebrows furrowed, he stared at Dean, momentarily the coughing stopped, but then he coughed again, more blood coming up with it, as well as some stolen grace. The blue glowing grace floated out into the air in wisps, then dissipated.

"Chuck should be… with Gabriel... at your house. But Dean… are you okay? You seem… different." Castiel tilted his head at the hunter, and Dean shook his head.

"Cas, you are in no position to be asking me if I'm alright." Dean smirks at the angel, wiping some blood off of Cas's face with his sleeve.

"Cas, just try and get some sleep." Sam said, heading towards the door of the room, Dean standing to follow him.

"Angels don't need sleep." Cas said, his eyes half closed, blood still leaking out of his nose. Cas grabbed a tissue and blotted at the red liquid.

"Then just don't die," Dean said.

"You too," Cas responded, and Dean and Sam left the bunker, got into the Impala, and started towards Lawrence, Kansas.

They arrived at their old home as the sun was beginning to rise. Dean and Sam got out of the Impala, and Dean walked up to the door, knocking on it twice, quickly, but forcefully. The way he knocked on Chuck's door the first time they met the small writer. The door slowly opened, quietly, and Dean and Sam walked into the house for the first time in years, ever since they helped that family with the spirit of Mary, their mom. As they walked in, they saw a man in a brown robe sitting at a desk positioned in the corner of the living room. He was typing away, keys clacking at furious speeds.

"Chuck?" Dean asked, looking at the robed figure, illuminated by the rising sun and the brightness of his laptop.

"Yes, I suppose that's who you know me as." Chuck answered. He removed his hands from the keyboard but the keys kept clicking. He spun around, stopping the chair as he faced the Winchester duo.

"Where's Gabe?" Sam asked, looking around the house. He couldn't feel the nostalgia that Dean felt, but he did feel a longing. To have grown up here, to have known his mom, to have sat around the fire at Christmas, watching bad specials on the television with his loving family.

"Gabriel is here, yes. Where is Castiel?" Chuck asked, the keys still typing furiously, even though no one was at the desk. Chuck had taken to sitting in a recliner chair to the side of the old couch that Dean had sat on. Sam joined his brother on the couch.

"He's at the Men of Letters bunker," Dean said simply. "But, how did you live? You must have died, or else Kevin wouldn't have been a prophet."

"Unless I wasn't exactly a prophet. May I ask, is Castiel in the bunker in Lebanon?" Dean and Sam nodded. Chuck smiled slightly, snapped his fingers, and Cas was laying in the loveseat across from the writer.

"How did you-," Sam started, but he was cut off by Chuck.

"As I said, I wasn't exactly a prophet. Think about it like this. Chuck was- is- a writer, correct?" Sam and Dean nodded. "But God already had a writer. Metatron. Why would He need two writers? If you think about it, God was a writer himself. Writing history and birth certificates. Giving some people epic stories or tragic tales of love and betrayal. So why would He need a middle-aged writer? Maybe He was the middle-aged writer. And maybe that's why what that middle-aged writer wrote, came true. All it took were a few taps of twenty-six keys. 'They won't be dead, they'll be on an airplane'. 'Adam was a vessel for Michael too'. 'Gabriel didn't die at the hands of his brother'. "

"What do you mean, Gabriel didn't die? We watched his message about the horsemen's Rings. He said he was dead, he was no match for Lucifer," Sam said, his eyebrows furrowed, looking quizzically at Chuck.

"Think about it. Did you ever really hear his screams of pain as Lucifer killed him? Did you see flashes of bright blue light? No. I kept him with me, in hiding. Lucifer may think he's clever, but I saved Gabriel just as Lucifer plunged his blade into him. I replaced him with a perfect copy, designed to die, but not with all the theatrics angels have when they die. Gabriel was an asset to me. I couldn't lose him to my more troublesome son. Besides, despite his protests, he's one of the most loyal angels to me." Chuck finished his story, and smiled, his clasped hands resting in his lap. He looked at the Winchesters, who looked like they believed none of his story, and Chuck sighed. "Alright. Let me show you. Castiel's grace has burned out, right?" Dean nodded, and watched as the man stood over Castiel, watched painfully as Chuck moved his hands over Cas's body, worried that Chuck would hurt the angel more than Cas was already hurt.

A wave of power surged over Castiel, radiating from Chuck's hands. Castiel's hair fluttered, his breath became less and less shallow, and his trenchcoat billowed in the in the breeze. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes, they were a vibrant blue again. As Chuck turned to sit down, Castiel sat up. All traces of blood had disappeared from his face and shirt.

"I feel… more powerful than I've ever felt. Even more powerful than when I had the leviathan. Thank you… Chuck?" Castiel said, and Chuck smiled at him.

"Hello, Castiel."

"I go by Cas now, Father." At the word Father, Dean's head snapped up to face the angel. CAS looked towards the Winchester, and nodded. "Chuck here, he is right when he says he is God. He just restored my grace."

"And made you an Arch-Angel, Castiel. You have been a brave angel, stepping up when others needed you. Besides, over the years, I've lost many an arch-angel. Dean Winchester, Samuel Winchester, meet Castiel, Arch-Angel of the Lord."

Cas, Dean, and Sam all looked in disbelief at Chuck, and then to the stairs when they heard someone come barreling down them. A short-ish man with light brown hair as long as Sam's. His eyes as light as his hair, caramel in colour. Gabriel.

"Congratulations bro!" The trickster/angel said, clapping Castiel on the back. "Guess I have to show you the Arch-Angel ropes, huh? Tell me, do you still not understand popular movie references?"

Cas shook his head. "No, I understand them now. Metatron gave me the ability to understand puns about Star Wars and Star Trek and other various movies. And books."

"Speaking of Metatron, what did you do with him?" Chuck asked. "I've been meaning to return to Heaven for quite some time now, but it was blocked by my old scribe."

"He has been imprisoned. I couldn't bear the thought of killing him when Gadreel gave his life to let me escape. When angels died because they thought it was right. Too many angels died in that war." Cas glanced over at Dean. "Too many humans died too."

Chuck nodded. "I see. I made the right choice in keeping you alive Castiel. Gabriel, can you stay with the Winchesters and Castiel? I must return to Heaven to right the wrongs I have committed since I was away." Gabriel nodded, and Chuck smiled once more. "Back to the bunker with you, huh? Goodbye Sam, Dean. Maybe one day we'll meet again." Chuck snapped his fingers, and the Winchester house disappeared. The angel brothers and the hunter brothers found themselves in the main den of the bunker, sitting around the table, Sam and Gabriel on one side, Dean and Castiel on the other.

"Dean, are you going to tell me what's wrong with you? I'm better now. I can ask." Cas said, his blue eyes locking onto Dean's green ones. Dean looked down.

"Yeah, but don't freak out." Dean looked back up at Castiel, his eyes, once again, black as night. Cas's eyes widened, as did Gabriel's.

"Wait, wait, wait," Gabriel said. "You're supposed to be Michael's Sword. The favoured weapon of Heaven. How can you be a demon?"

"I was never Michael's Sword. And that was a long time ago. I died, and this brought me back." Dean rolled up his sleeve, revealing the Blood Mark Cain gave him so Dean could kill Abbadon.

"The Blood Mark of Cain. Well, I'll be damned," Gabe said, shaking his head. He glanced at Cas, who was looking worriedly at Dean. "Hey, Samsquatch, let's go do something fun," Gabe said, grabbing Sam's arm and pulling him out of the bunker. "Let's go to the candy store! We can get chocolate, and lollipops, and gummi bears! Ooh, gummi bears!"

Dean and Cas sat in silence for a bit. "So, an Arch-Angel and a demon, huh?" Dean said, chuckling softly.

"Dean, why don't we just try and forget about the demon thing. You're still the Dean I l- know. Remember, I gave up my entire army for you, and we still won. You being a demon shouldn't change any of that." Cas watched as Dean sat on the other side of the table. Dean's green eyes weren't bright like they used to be. "I know, why don't we go get some pie?" Cas asked hopefully. A slight sparkle returned to Dean's eye, and he chuckled.

"Alright Cas. Let's go get some pie."


End file.
